Poem: What it is is Beautiful

Don’t we all ask ourselves: How can I be more present? How can I find more enjoyment in these days, right now? How can I appreciate what I have, before trying to rush on to the next stage of life?

I wrestle with these questions all the time. I want everything in my life to line up with my ideals, so I tend to attack each day as if it were a project to manage. But isn’t life supposed to be a feast of experiences to taste and savor, instead?

Having kids has reminded me that imagination is transformative. Everything doesn’t have to be as we think it is. We can see the trappings of our lives differently.

This, for me, is the point of all poetry. It’s a small and seemingly insignificant thing — but in that concision, it can deliver a potent shot of perspective.

The following poem is the title poem from my book (newly-released on Amazon, for the price of a greeting card). Its title is a reference to a LEGO ad from the 1980s. I chose it because it’s the perfect reminder: It doesn’t matter what type of chaos we’re looking at — we can choose to see this life with new eyes.

What it is is Beautiful

I’d really had it with the mess,
the way there wasn’t a single clear surface
to deflect the meager winter light,
but only piles of haphazard papers
made up of macaroni crafts
purporting to be flat.

Clothing was flung on the floor,
from jackets in the front hall
to a trail of socks and sweaters
as the kids molted
on their way to the kitchen.

I stalked through it,
seething over the futility of a to-do list
featuring anything other thanPick up after people
— when the corner of a toy
dug into my foot.

I staggered, and blinked,
and then it was in my hand,
my arm wound back,
ready to hurl the offending plastic
straight into the trash—

but something stopped me.
Maybe it was the thought of my child
careening through the house,
wearing a million-dollar smile
and this lego creation on her head,

or maybe it was just my usual exhaustion.
I flopped down on the sofa,
raised the toy to my face,
and peered through.

The makeshift lenses
were sticky and clouded
and smelled suspiciously of banana.
But a vision of the room entered in with a glow,
and I leaned forward,
incredulous:

A massive bear
stood where our dining table had been,
offering his broad back for our daily rounds
of dinner and homework.

Below him,
the floor was a slick pane of ice
spread out in all directions.
As I watched, one of the kids
came running in from the hall,
then did a swift drop
and slid the length of the room
on her knees.

I laughed and stood up,
set the goggles on a shelf:
dinner wasn’t getting made
by this magic, and my ice skater
would soon be clamoring for a meal.

So I picked my way across the cold floor,
kicking lumps of clothing into corners
to clear the rink, and stopping only
to give our messy table
an affectionate pat.

I considered attempting
a knee slide right up to the stove,
but instead drew a long breath
and stepped to my post —
to undertake a task from my list
and forage in a fridge of leftovers
for items I could transform
into a feast.

Win a Copy

As part of our monthly book series, Sarah would like to give TEN Simple Mom readers a copy of her new book, What it is is Beautiful. To enter your chance to win, leave any comment below this post. (If you’re reading this post via email, please click over to the original post and leave a comment on the blog.)

This giveaway has ended. Check tomorrow’s weekend links to see the winners!

April 25, 2013

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Reader Interactions

Comments

Such lovely imagery! I, too, love poetry and have found that with my mom-mush-brain I haven’t been reading it as much as in my former life sans kids.
Would love to read more.
Molting–isn’t that the truth?!
Sarah M

Imagination is so wonderful. You can go any place, be anything or anyone if you have imagination. It is also in reading and writing. I once was asked by a co-worker why I
read every chance I got and I told them because I can be anyone and go anywhere I want and still be at work. They stared at me then shook their head and walked away. I felt incrediousless then very sad because they were missing out on so much. Thank you for your lovely poem.

I. Need. This. Book. so I can wallpaper strategic spots with its pages. (To wit: above the kitchen sink. Near the washing machine. On the music stand. On the steering wheel of my car. Anyplace where I have shaken a fist about the travails of parenting without remembering how vast the benefits to me.)

Love it! The clutter and mounds reminds me of my own home. The Lego I can totally relate too. I find that stuff in the back yard, in the bathroom, in the laundry, in my SUV, in seems to penetrate all of my life. Yet again so do my children, and I am blessed by that.

I could feel tears in my eyes while reading that lovely poem. it reminded me of all the times my little son was narrating his stories ….and I was only half listening, my mind preoccupied with the incomplete chore at hand. This poem reminds me to stop and listen not just with my ears but with my heart,wipe out that frown line from my forehead , laugh more with my two boys and yes…..those little toy cars scattered all over the floor aren’t that catastrophic after all!!

Through these roller coaster years of child rearing, it is “beautiful” to hear the story of our days through such poetry. Just reading your poem above has lighted my step today and I would grateful to have that feeling each day!

I am a lot older than you, and have raised 3 sons to be warm, caring adults. I remember the legos and the star wars figures, and the Ninja turtles! Your children’s childhood is a magical time, enjoy it – it passes way too quickly!!

Sarah, your poetry makes me take a breath. And on the exhale, I find myself saying ‘Yes.’ You write accessible poetry without compromising what poetry is, and by making it look easy, I know you are a woman of craft. I have a copy of your book in my amazon cart if I don’t win…and will probably order multiples so I can share, if I do. Thank you!

I love this. We have tried to set up a new “everyone pitches in to clean” system at our house but no one except me seems to be doing it. I think these thoughts almost daily and I try to remember the point of the poem always (especially when I’m about to lose it).

You have captured my feelings exactly. I have become so frustrated over messes and “molting” from my kids that I thought I could burst! Yet, my kids usually makes me laugh, smile, and vow to have more patience, before it actually happens.

Can I ever relate!!!!! But as I prepare to re-enter the workforce after time off with my children, I become nostalgic. One of my kids had a birthday this week and I feel the loss of my “little” guy. He is growing up and it is going way to quickly. We must slow ourselves down and enjoy the little moments.

Love the poem. Sometimes I get lost in the chaos and need a breath of fresh air to bring me back to embracing the present moments. Simple moms blos has been that breath of fresh air. I now lean onto these blogs like a good friend, to pull me through the challenging times. Thank you.

What a beautiful poem about what is so ordinary! It can be so hard to find the wonderful in the day to day of raising little (and big) people who make messes EVERYWHERE! Thank you for the encouragement while I go attack the mess my boys call a bedroom

OK I will admit at first when you started posting poetry I was a little put off…and now I love it because, Sarah’s poems especially, help me to know I am not alone…oh thank goodness someone else has piles around the house and hate being the only one in the home picking them up, in fact, the only one who seems to see them! with all the pictures on the internet that people post of their perfect clean homes I appreciate the glimpse, albeit mental, of one that more closely resembles mine.

I’ve already bought & gifted 3 copies of this book — it’s *wonderful*!! Would love to win a copy and be able to gift it to yet another friend. I’ll be buying more copies regardless. Sarah – when is the next volume coming out??? 😀 (Tsh – thanks for continuing to introduce us to such wonderful people and resources.)

I love this poem. It made me think of how annoying all that Easter grass that the grandmas put in my daughter’s Easter basket was. It was everywhere and I was about to outlaw it permanently, but my daughter had so much fun for a week! It’s all about perspective!

What a blessing! Just this morning I declined to have interstate inlaws over for dinner because my house is a mess (with 4 kids it seems it’s never anything else!) and I couldn’t face the tidy up. Today I’d rather wrangle our 4 kids at a restaurant than have people over. But I’ve thought about it and invited them for dinner on Monday, this is our reality right now and I just have to be OK with however things turn out on the day. Thanks for the reminder that it’s normal to feel the frustrations, but we don’t have to let that dictate our response. xx